


Careful, the Veranda Shoots Back

by Omorka



Category: Eureka
Genre: Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-02
Updated: 2010-05-02
Packaged: 2017-10-09 06:42:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/84167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Omorka/pseuds/Omorka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>S.A.R.A.H.'s feeling insecure again, so the Carters try to boost her self-image.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Careful, the Veranda Shoots Back

**Author's Note:**

> Pure, unadulterated fluff, and a suggestion of Fargo's neuroses rubbing off on S.A.R.A.H. in unexpected ways. No specific episode spoilers. Originally written for the prompt "a porch" at Story_Lottery over on LJ.

It was shortly after Fargo told him that S.A.R.A.H. had an in-line on-demand water heater, not a tank, that Jack realized what the lukewarm water at the end of a long shower was: a sign that his house was depressed. Thus, when Zoe came out of the bathroom wrapped in her thickest terry robe, with goose-flesh on both arms, he immediately looked up and asked, "Okay, S.A.R.A.H., what's the matter now?"

"Oh, nothing," she replied in that tone that always, _always_ meant that something was terribly wrong and clearly you were a chump for not seeing it yourself.

Zoe glanced at her father, then at the security camera in the corner of the living room. "Are you worried that we're spending too much time elsewhere? If you need, I can try and not sleep over at Pilar's so often."

"No," sighed the smart house. "You're a growing girl, almost a woman. You're going to need to start looking at other houses eventually. Pilar's is a nice one, for those first few steps outside." Something seemed to creak in the plumbing under the kitchen. "I just - I suppose I'm feeling a little insecure about my appearance."

"Oh, no," moaned Zoe. "Have you been reading watching the Home and Garden Network again?"

"A little," S.A.R.A.H. admitted.

Jack jumped in. "S.A.R.A.H., you know that's not what those houses really look like. They have special people come in, landscapers and professional decorators, to primp them up. They truck in furniture that only stays until the end of the photo shoot. Even the knick-knacks are temporary."

"They spray-paint the lawns to get them that shade of green," Zoe added.

"They use special lighting to make the rooms look taller," Jack continued.

Zoe pointed out, "And then they Photoshop the results."

"We all know you're beautiful on the inside, S.A.R.A.H., and that's what counts," Jack finished, patting the wall awkwardly.

The ventilation system turned on with a sigh. "I know," S.A.R.A.H. said softly, "but even keeping all that in mind, my exterior is - well, _industrial_."

Zoe and Jack exchanged a glance, both out of ideas. "I kind of like it that way," Zoe replied, but even she could hear how weak that sounded.

"I don't," the house said. "I know I'll never look like the brand-new no-lot-line McMansions - and I wouldn't want to," she continued, her voice strengthening. "But there's nothing homey about a rusty old military bunker. Just homely."

Zoe finally found the words for what Jack was dreading. "You want a makeover?"

"Not exactly," said S.A.R.A.H., but her voice rose with hope. "I'd just like to add - a few touches. Something to make me feel a little more special."

"A rose bush?" Jack asked, knowing it wouldn't be that simple.

"A new coat of paint," Zoe guessed.

"Both of those would be nice," S.A.R.A.H. admitted, "but what I'd really like is a front porch."

The Carters lapsed into silence. Finally, Zoe repeated it: "A front porch?"

"Yes. With a nice spindle railing, and a glider."

"A glider?" Jack asked, baffled.

"She means a porch swing," Zoe explained. "As described by people who call what she wants the veranda."

"And some hanging planters, with geraniums," S.A.R.A.H. added.

"If we put a porch up there on the bunker, it'll look like that's all there is," Jack objected.

"That wouldn't be so bad, though, would it?" Zoe asked, thinking. "It'd kind of look like a gazebo, except squared-off, with a front and back."

"Cream," S.A.R.A.H. continued, "with a sea-green deck and salmon trim."

"Salmon? Really?" Zoe recoiled, just slightly. "I'd go with a light-olive deck and a few diluted yellow highlights - that'd be much more flattering to your front stairwell."

"You think so?" S.A.R.A.H.'s generator whirred. "I guess I'd have to see the paint chips you were thinking about."

Jack dropped onto the sofa. "How expensive is this going to be?" he groaned.

"Not very," the house answered. "There's a general fund for repairs and renovations attached to the Smart House project, and this last year has caused me significantly less damage than usual. It's a use-it-or-lose-it budget item - "

"And the Section Three outside project budget rolls over in a month," Jack remembered aloud.

"So what kind of stairs were you thinking about?" Zoe asked, reaching for a magazine. Jack tuned out his daughter and his house arguing about architectural styles, and tried to figure out whether he needed to call Henry or Fargo first.

\---

"It's actually really elegant," Fargo was saying as one finger traced a line on the blueprints spread across the kitchen table. "We can run power from the panel on the bunker door to channels hidden in the support beams, so you can plug in anything you want to recharge without having to go downstairs, but without visible wires or outlets."

Fargo had thrown himself into what Carter was now thinking of as Project Veranda with enthusiasm; he'd always felt guilty, he confided, that he hadn't made S.A.R.A.H.'s exterior "a little sexier." Henry had been surprised, but he was game for pretty much of anything. The patch on his jumpsuit currently read "Architect," but Jack had seen the ones in his pocket that read "Carpenter" and "Painter."

Henry tweaked a line on the blueprint with one finger, dragging it slightly upwards. "There'll be fold-away fans here and here," he said, "with covers that will withstand gale-force winds."

"And the glider?" S.A.R.A.H. said anxiously.

"It'll go right here," Fargo assured her, "right next to the hanging boxes. I'm thinking ivy-leaved geraniums?"

"Exactly my thought," the house preened.

"Then you'll want a subdued color scheme," Henry noted. "You don't want to overpower, or worse, clash with the colors of your hanging garden." He tapped another spot on the blueprint and several small gold dots on the paper lit up. "These are hangers for windchimes or baskets; they're on a track of their own, so you can move them around as necessary but they won't interfere with the lighting."

"I hadn't thought about that," S.A.R.A.H. said softly.

"I'm thinking Zoe's suggestion of a cream-and-soft-yellows palette makes a lot of sense," Fargo said, dialing up color overlays that filled the spaces between the lines.

"You might be right," admitted the smart house. "Can I see that with the saturation on the trim dialed up a bit?"

"That looks awfully sunny for Oregon," Jack pointed out.

"I like it," Zoe stated, and Jack knew he was outvoted.

\---

The actual building had been anticlimactic. Henry had shown up to supervise two guys and a load of wood, but a quartet of robots from Global had done most of the work. Fargo had dropped by to install the electrical fixtures and make sure the wireless network was functional, along with the automatic dumbwaiter. Another set of robots, a trio this time, had followed after and painted everything - an off-white that Jack thought was closer to ivory than cream, but Zoe and Henry seemed to think it was fine, and a yellow that was brighter than he'd imagined for the trim. Jo had cajoled Seth into showing up and taking care of the roses and geraniums as a neighborly favor; Jack wondered what contraband she'd caught him with this time.

Soft jazz played from speakers he could neither see nor place by sound. Zoe was curled up on the porch swing with her English homework, a novel in her lap and a notebook tucked under one elbow. Jack sat down at the ivory - no, cream-colored wicker table with its cream-colored wicker chairs.

"S.A.R.A.H.," he called, "beer me."

"Coming right up." A previously invisible slot opened in the back wall of the porch; a pilsner glass with a frothy head sat in the dumbwaiter. Jack retrieved it and took a sip.

"Would you like to watch the Dodgers game?" S.A.R.A.H. asked. A holodisplay sprung up over the porch railing, showing a fly ball dropping into center field.

Jack inhaled the summer evening, green scents mixing with the flowers S.A.R.A.H. was already fussing over hourly. A firefly blinked in the distance. At least, he hoped it was a firefly and not some energy particle experiment running loose.

He nodded. "This isn't so bad," he admitted.

"I feel pretty," S.A.R.A.H. said to no one in particular.

Zoe turned a page. "I think yellow's really your color," she agreed.

"I wouldn't have guessed I was a Spring," the house murmured.

Jack listened to them discussing whether or not jasmine would be a good addition to the flowerbed and grinned quietly. Sometimes, the perks of this job were all right.


End file.
